Guardian of Gotham
by Marie Hawkins
Summary: Four generations after Dick Grayson has taken up the mantle of the bat, there is no hope left for Gotham. All of the Bat Family has been ruthlessly killed off. But a decendant of Bruce Wayne finds Gothams next  unlikely  hero: Ryan Connors.
1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

Gotham had gone to hell. It was a nightmare to live in, compared to the apparent peace it had once had. Crime was out of control once again, but this time, it seemed that no one was brave enough to stand up to the criminals. People like Batman, Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, Oracle… they were so far away they were legends. They couldn't strike fear into people's hearts if they didn't exist.

My parents were killed shortly before my ninth birthday. I was sent to live with my uncle, who was rather well off. My uncle, unsure of what to do, sent me off to various private schools around the country. I was a semi-rebellious child, and picked up street fighting, as well as enrolling in any martial arts classes I could. My uncle brought me back to his manor as soon as I finished my schooling. He hoped that I would help him run his company. I wasn't exactly keen on being a CEO, but it was all I had at the moment.

By day, I lived the life of a respectable employee of ConnCorp, but by night I was the wild city boy I was back at school. My uncle was constantly covering up for me, something that he never seemed to tire of. As long as I brought in a profit at the company, he seemed to leave me alone. Don't get me wrong, my uncle loves me, and he wants to take care of me; but he's been a bachelor his whole life, and has no idea how to care for a young man like me.

But he didn't have to worry about it for long. My life was about to change. And so was Gotham.


	2. Chapter 2

Tavern was crowded as always. Lucky for me, I was popular around here, so it was easy for me to get in. It was the perfect place. Bright lights, huge crowd, deafening music, free drinks for billionaires; I could escape the life that I was destined to have while I was here.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. A rather attractive blonde haired, blue eyed woman was smiling at me. She was in wonder.

"Are you Ryan Connors?" she asked me. You would think it was Christmas time the way her eyes lit up. I flashed a smile. Still, being a successful, well-known, billionaire had its advantages when it came to picking up women.

"That would be me," I said. She giggled. "And you are?"

"My name is Sadie Kyle," she said, offering her hand. I took it, and kissed it. She giggled again. "What brings you to the Tavern?" she asked me, pulling up a chair.

"I practically own the place," I said, shrugging. "It's just a place I go to get away."

"Interesting getaway," she said, looking around. She leaned forward. "You know, this is my first time here. Its way too popular for little 'ol me to get in here without a three month reservation." I smiled, and leaned forward towards her face.

"Well, Miss Kyle, I could certainly fix that for you." She giggled again, but her happy expression disappeared when she looked behind my shoulder. I turned just in time to doge a punch aimed at the back of my head. My assailant stood straight again, and I stood up from my chair.

"You may be wearing a thousand dollar suit, but you shouldn't be messing with my girlfriend," he said angrily, rearing to punch again. I grabbed his fist before it hit my shoulder.

"Woah, slow down, sugar plum," I said, still holding tightly onto his fist. "Last time I checked, talking to a lady wasn't a crime; even if she _is_ gorgeous like Miss Kyle here." His eyes were spitting fire. He used his other fist to try and break my concentration, but I was faster. A quick upper-cut to his chin did the trick. He fell backwards. I was about to turn and walk away, but he was a persistent hot-head. He quickly got to his feet and got in a punch to the ribs. I felt the sharp pain jolting through my body. It had been a while since I had taken a hit, and I was unprepared for that one.

"You're gonna pay, rich boy," he growled. He swung wildly at my head. I ducked, and rammed my head into his stomach. He toppled over once more, and I was on him, punching at every inch I could reach. He was retaliating, actually making contact a couple of times. I could tell there would be bruises in the morning.

Shortly, security arrived and pulled us apart. The hot-head had definitely got a worse beating. As he was dragged off, I flashed him a smirk, and turned to leave. I saw Sadie Kyle standing there, calmly, a smile playing at her lips.

"Not bad, Mr. Connors. Please excuse my boyfriend's rude behavior," She said, walking up to me.

"Only because you asked nicely," I laughed. She looked calmly at me for several more seconds before walking off. It was odd that she hadn't stood there, hysterical while her boyfriend was getting punched. She was calm about it, almost enjoyed it. '_I think I like this girl_' I thought to myself, laughing. I walked down the stairs to the lower level of the Tavern. Someone firmly grabbed my arm. I sighed. I was getting more attention than I really wanted tonight. I turned, and saw someone I didn't expect: Byron Wayne.

"Ryan Connors-" he started.

"Well, I must admit, this is the _last_ place I'd ever expect to see you, Mr. Wayne," I interrupted, trying to hide my shock. The old man chuckled.

"Don't distract me, Ryan. That was quite an _impressive_ display up there," he said, motioning to the balcony with his walking stick. I scoffed.

"Oh, that was nothing. It was just some idiot who wanted to pick a fight." I put my hands in my pockets, praying that this conversation would be over soon.

"Which is why I need to talk to you," he said, seriously. "Can we take this conversation somewhere else? I can barely hear myself think." He grabbed my arm and led me out the back door and into an alley.

"Don't worry about it," I said "It was just a little fight. I get in them all the time. I'll be fine," I was hoping to spare myself the pep talk about being responsible. I had received it from him plenty of times before. He always seemed to run into me after I had gotten myself into a little tussle.

"I'm just going to get right to the point, Ryan," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. "You're wasting your talents."

I was slightly taken aback. This wasn't what I had expected from old man Byron. I was pretty sure that he never saw club brawls as 'talent.'

"I'm sorry," I stammered. "C-could you say that again?" Byron laughed a little.

"Ryan, you have extreme potential. You could be using these abilities for more than club brawls, no?" he asked.

"What are you saying?" I asked him. "That I take up the long abandoned cowl? Why don't _you_ do it? You seem to know more about it than I do." Byron laughed harder at that. I was resisting the urge to punch a wall. This guy spent more time laughing at me than anything else.

"In case you haven't noticed, son, I'm a little old for that. Stop by the Manor tomorrow for dinner. We've got a lot to talk about," he said, and walked away. I stood there for several seconds. I hadn't been serious when I popped off the cowl crack. But I guess to Byron it wasn't a joke.

I sighed and began my walk home. The cool evening air was whipping at my face. I was sure that my uncle wouldn't be especially pleased to hear that I was in another fight. If it became a problem, he'd cover it up of course. Then again, I was supposed to be reforming from the whole 'night-life' idea. Whatever.

The graveyard caught my eye. I hadn't been here for at least ten years. Suddenly, I felt guilty. I walked across the street, and into the graveyard. I squinted carefully, searching for my parents. It took several minutes, but eventually I found a gray tombstone with their names. I knelt in front of their headstone. I hadn't really thought much about my parents since my eleventh birthday. All the grief over my parent's death that I had buried inside me spilled out. For the first time since I was eight, I cried. Most people couldn't see through me, but my parents could. They had expected great things for me, and here I was partying every night, wasting my time. It was a way for me to forget who I was and what my past was. Maybe Byron was right. Maybe I was wasting my talents. I could be doing good in this world. I _should_ be doing good.


	3. Chapter 3

"You aren't going to beat up another protective boyfriend tonight, are you my boy?" My uncle inquired, as I grabbed my coat. I almost laughed.

"I'm having dinner with Byron Wayne," I informed him. He seemed surprised, but kept any questions he had to himself.

"Well, have a good time, eh?" he said, and retreated back into his study. I walked out the door, and into the garage. If I was the same man I was yesterday morning, I would have stood old man Wayne up. But what he had said had an effect on me. I didn't notice it, until I visited my parents. As over-sensitive as it sounds, it was true.

I parked my Porsche by the marble steps leading up to the Manor. Byron's middle-aged butler, Henry, smiled, and took my car to the garage. I walked up the steps, and was greeted by Byron.

"Ah, Mr. Connors, I almost thought you weren't coming," he smiled. He led me into the dining room, where all the food was laid out. He guided me to a seat, and sat at the head of the table. We ate in several minutes of silence.

"Last night you said you had lots to talk about," I said, breaking the silence. I had never been an especially patient person. Byron set down his fork, and smiled.

"You've heard of Bruce Wayne," he said. I nodded. "And Richard, Jason, Tim, and Damian Wayne, correct?" I'd heard of most of them, but I wasn't about to ask questions. I didn't come all this way for a history lesson.

"Damian was my great-great-great grandfather," Byron continued. "The world viewed the Wayne men as rich playboys." I almost laughed. Everyone _knew_ that Wayne boys were rich party animals. In Gotham, that was a fact of life, almost as commonly taught as two plus two equals four. I kept my humor to myself and let Byron continue with his family history, praying that it would go somewhere.

"However, they were also viewed as great heroes to the people of Gotham. They were the guardians of Gotham," he said, dramatically. I gave him a puzzled look. I didn't see how the Wayne family had done anything to change Gotham, except throw money at it. Not like I had any room to talk, but still.

Byron chuckled at my expression and elaborated, "My ancestor, Bruce Wayne, created the cowl. He was _the_ Dark Knight. His gained allies, and the cowl has been passed down through his family ever since." This time, I couldn't hold my laughter back.

"You're telling me that billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne was the first Batman?" I scoffed. "That's rich." Byron didn't look offended. He simply stood, and motioned for me to follow. He led me to his library.

"I didn't expect you to believe me, but I have the proof," he said, as he plucked at his piano. His bookcase moved aside to reveal an elevator. It had obviously been upgraded over the years. He put his hand to a biometric scanner. The doors hissed open and he motioned me inside. This whole thing was crazy. It seemed like it belonged in a movie or a book. But it was real.

The elevator dropped smoothly. The air turned cool, and the doors hissed open once more. We stepped out into a large cave. It was everything that it was rumored to be and more. I stared around in awe, at a loss for words. Byron laughed.

"I've always wanted to see someone's reaction to the Batcave," he chuckled. "It was worth the wait." He led me to a corner of the cave. There were several tall glass containers. Suspended inside were the costumes of the legends. They were all here; Batman, Robin, Batgirl, Batwoman, Nightwing, Red Robin. I stood in silence, gently placing my fingers on each glass container.

"It's time for someone to wear the cowl again," Byron said, solemnly. I turned to him, shocked.

"No, I couldn't. The title belongs to you," I said. Byron shook his head, smiling again.

"Ryan, look at me. I'm far too old for that kind of excitement. But you have the potential and the _reason_ purge criminals from Gotham."

"Why wasn't the cowl passed down to you?" I asked, without thinking. Byron looked down at the ground and sighed.

"Several years ago, there was a villain. He was so _powerful_," he said, sadly. "He wiped out the whole Batman family. Descendants or friends that tried to be brave and take up the cowl were killed. That's when they stopped passing down the cowl. That's when Gotham went to hell. I was never trained well enough to try and take up the cowl. I've been searching for someone who was. And it's you, Ryan."

I rolled over the information in my mind. It all made sense. But who was powerful enough to force the Batman family into hiding? And what had happened to them?

"Do you know who this villain was?" I asked Byron, hopefully. He shook his head.

"But I know that if they're still out there, you have the power to defeat them. If you decide to take up the cowl, you will benefit, as will the entire city," he said, persuasively. The idea was appealing, but I was still hesitant.

"Mr. Wayne," I said, slowly, "The idea is great, but it's just not practical. The Batcave is here, and I live halfway across town-" Byron lifted a hand, and cut me off.

"I realize that. There is something else I have to tell you; I want to make you my heir," he said, he continued before I could protest. "I know you already have a lot to your name, but I have no children or family. I know you will put the Manor, Wayne money, and Batcave resources to good use. What do you say?"

I stammered, trying to find the right words. I was honored that he thought _I _could be Batman, humbled that he saw I could be a good man, grateful for the new chance I'd been given, and worried about what I would tell my uncle.

"What if I put you at risk?" I asked, the question suddenly popping into my head. Byron shrugged and smiled sadly.

"I'm prepared for the consequences. I'm old anyway," he said. "Don't worry about that."

"I'll do it," I said, finally. "I have to talk my uncle into letting me live here. You know, come up with some lame rich boy excuse," I smiled, "but with any luck I should be moving in tomorrow." Byron smiled hugely. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, and we went back upstairs.

I was regaled with more Batman family history, until it was late. I said goodnight to Byron, got my car from the garage and sped home. I felt different. It was a better different; it was like my life had an actual purpose. It wasn't just another thing to blow off. I smiled to myself. For the first time in a long time, things were actually going right.


	4. Chapter 4

"Haven't you been begging me to leave for months?" I argued. My uncle wasn't taking the news that I was moving out well. We'd been arguing for at least half an hour.

"I just don't understand," my uncle told me. "This decision came out of nowhere, and as far as I'm concerned, you've never really _liked_ Byron Wayne."

"Oh, why do you care so much? You wanted me to start surviving on my own, become financially independent, and leave ConnCorp to someone who would actually take the job seriously. I don't see why this is such a problem for you." My uncle is a great guy; he's just always been too… overprotective. But there was nothing that he could do about this. I was already half moved out. My uncle sighed in defeat. He knew I was right.

Now, I've never been a super emotional person either. I guess I kind of get that from him. So when he came over and hugged me, I wanted to rip his arms off. But I kept my cool. After all, I didn't know when I would see him again out of a work environment.

I drove back to Wayne Manor. Most of my possessions were already being put away. Byron was directing people and shouting instructions. It was weird to think that Wayne Manor would be my home, but I can't say that I didn't like the idea. I helped him, and it took several hours to make sure that everything was moved in properly.

Once all was done, Henry provided us with some supper. I could easily get used to his cooking. It was the best.

"So, Ryan," Byron said, as we were finishing dinner. "Are you going to go out on the town tonight?" I froze.

"Um, what?" I asked. I was a bit surprised. "I thought you didn't really approve of my whole party boy attitude?" How's that for understatement of the year? Byron just laughed.

"When I say go out, I don't mean as yourself," he said, his eyes glinting. I quickly picked up on his meaning. My heart was pounding. I didn't think I could get so excited about something like this. "Just don't stay out too late, huh? Get a feel for the town, learn what you can, and come back."

This was it. I was really going to do it. I walked quickly through the Batcave. Luckily, it wasn't too cold down here. The material that the bat-suit was made of felt strange. It was cool and smooth, but yet sturdy feeling. It fit snugly, but was easy to move in. I wished all my regular clothes fit like this.

Getting used to the suit was the easy part. Actually using it turned out to be more of a challenge. I fumbled for the first few minutes, struggling to memorize where things were. I did manage to observe things I had never noticed before. Gotham was terrible. Worse than I had originally thought it to be. And I hadn't noticed half the crimes going on in the city. I knew I needed to change things, and fast. But, still, a part of me knew I couldn't do this by myself. I needed someone else, someone who would stick by me. Finding a partner was something Byron had failed to mention.

I need a Robin, I thought. Where the hell was I going to find one of those?


End file.
